His complete insecurity makes me take a step back from him. “What?” I stammer, shaking my head.
“I will not allow you to turn your back on me.” His blue eyes have gone almost black and I gulp. I can no longer defend myself against him. I’m not strong enough.
“I-I’m not,” I stutter.
“It sounds like that is exactly what you are doing,” he says quietly.
“No... Remiel...” I shake my head, but it does nothing to deter him. He keeps coming at me and I bump into the wall. I have nowhere else to go, so I do the only thing I can. I duck to the side causing him to stumble at my sudden, and unexpected move.
“Aefre,” he warns me.
“Remiel. It isn’t what you think. I am not leaving you.” I can hear the urgency in my own voice.
“I won’t let you,” he growls at me. “You will be my charge, by my side, or you won’t be at all.” He reaches out and pushes me, to my utter shock. I fall back, even my Vampire reflexes not being able to catch me, and I hit the floor with a loud thud.
I groan as I squeeze my eyes further shut.
“You arsehole,” I grumble. I can’t believe he pushed me! What is this, the fucking playground?
“What are you speaking?” a male’s voice grates out at me. The accent is thick, and the language is...
“What?” My eyes fly open. I am in a gloomy room, on a dirt floor, dressed in a coarse material that scratches my skin. “What?” I look up and then wheeze as the male’s foot connects with my ribs. Again, so it feels.
I turn my head to the side to retch as my eyes go blurry.
No.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!
This isn’t happening.
“Radulf?” I croak out.
“Aefre.” His guttural voice makes my heart stop and without stopping to think about what will happen to me, I get myself onto my hands and knees.
It gets me a kick to the stomach, one that has me rolling over and retching again. I take this time to furiously think what the fuck has happened. Remiel seems to have pushed me through time. Unless I passed out and this is my worst nightmare. It feels real though. I grab my side and feel the bruises. Yes, it definitely feels real. But I don’t understand. How has this happened?
“You will be my charge, by my side, or you won’t be at all.” Has Remiel done this to me somehow? Pushed me through time to a place where I wasn’t a Vampire anymore? Not his and not Constantine’s?
“Fuck,” I mumble and get another kick in the ribs for my effort.
“Stop speaking,” Radulf growls at me.
“Fuck you,” I spit out, even though he has no idea what I am saying. I get my frail, human body back onto my hands and knees and then quickly onto my feet. I need the use of the old wooden chair to help me to my feet, my battered body about ready to collapse. But that will be the death of me. I glare at my first husband in utter hatred, gripping my side to keep me steady.
“Get down,” he says to me, pulling the leather strap off the wall.
“No,” I reply in the old language, sticking my chin up defiantly.
His eyebrows skyrocket at my audacity. “Get. Down!” he shouts at me.
I shake my head, my eyes darting to find my escape route. If my body will allow me, I can duck off to the left and out of the door to run. To where? Who knows? But away from here. I inch closer to my exit, but he follows me, flicking the strap at me, taunting me with a vicious smirk on his ugly face.
“Obey your husband,” he says, catching my backside with the strap.
I flinch but keep moving. “Never again,” I spit out and make a run for it. Surprise is the only thing on my side. I had forgotten how humungous he was, both tall and wide. In less than one stride he is in front of me, blocking my escape, but there is no way I am staying here. Thinking quickly, I kick him in the groin, and he drops like a rock to his knees, the look of shock and outrage crumpling his ogre-like looks. I hop on one bare foot as I have bruised my toes, but I have to run through the pain. I have to or he is going to kill me. Whether or not this is really real, I don’t want to die by his hand in this smelly hut, in this god-awful dress, with lice crawling in my hair. I scratch furiously as I kick him over and then I run. I wince as I stand on stones and things and slip in, I don’t want to know what. But nothing stops me. I run and run, out of breath, my body screaming in agony for me to stop, but I can’t. Running is the only thing I can do. If I stop, I die. It has boiled down to something as simple as that. Run and live or stop and die. I know which one I choose, regardless of whether my human body has the capability to keep me going much further. I know where I am going. I recognize it even after all these hundreds of years.
The Marketplace.